


keep me grounded

by xShieru



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Analysis, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Superpowers, Teleportation, inspired by the bright sessions, psychologist Yuuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 21:57:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9259205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xShieru/pseuds/xShieru
Summary: Ever since he's turned fifteen, Yuri Plisetsky has been cursed with superpowers he doesn't want. Feeling crushed by his grandfather's sudden death, he finds himself standing before Yuuri Katsuki's office.Wherein Yuri suffers, finds out there are people like him and finally sees some upsides to this whole ordeal.





	

**Author's Note:**

> if sense8 and bright sessions had a baby  
> this chapter contains brief mentions of suicide contemplation.   
> the beginning is pretty upsetting but it will get better in the following chapters

Yuri Plisetsky spends at least three minutes having a stare down with a door. It’s old, but the numbers – 201 – gleam in gold, catching the hues of the afternoon’s sunlight and distorting his reflection. The moment he raises his hand to wrap it around the brass door handle, it cramps as though he’s just spent three hours writing some essay. It repeats at least five times until Yuri checks his phone for time and, with a deep sigh, realizes that he’s going to be late for his appointment if he doesn’t enter now.

The space is dimly lit, light filtering through the closed blinds, and smells like paper and coffee. Pictures, certificates and flyers regarding self-care hang off the cream-colored walls. The huge bookshelf to his right is overflowing with thick files and psychology books. There’s a dark brown leather sofa to the left, red pillows placed on it.

Yuri takes a seat on the chair before the man’s desk.

Said man, his new and first psychologist smiles at him warmly. His eyes are kind and a little surprised as if he didn’t heard Yuri enter the room. There's a bunch of documents held in his hands, spread out on the table’s surface.

Yuri snorts. “I’m here for my appointment.”

“Ah,” the man says, eyes flitting to the clock hanging on the wall before him. It’s shaped like a cat, tail swishing back and forth, counting the seconds. “The 4:30 pm one, is that correct?”

Yuri doesn’t like him already. He seems ditzy, unreliable. Shouldn’t he know these things by now? Why pretend? Is he playing some mind games to get information out of him? “Yes,” he says through clenched teeth, voice filled with disdain. He needs to make sure that he sounds displeased enough. For all he knows, this guy might be the only person out there who’ll understand, so Yuri has to mind his manners to at least some extent.

The guy before him doesn’t even react, only shoves the documents back into a manila folder. “Wonderful!” he chirps and brushes Yuri’s bad vibes away as though it’s nothing. He’s one of those guys – obnoxiously happy, ready to enjoy life. Too positive. “Make yourself at home. Could I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?” he questions and moves to the coffee pot, sending Yuri a warm look. _Gross._

“How about we just get this over and done with?” Yuri grouches, trying to keep his face impassive. It twitches.

“We have time.”

“Good for you because some of us really don’t.”

The man shrugs, looking away. “If you feel that way, then we can start. How about you introduce yourself?” he offers and goes back to the desk, sipping on the tar-like liquid. He’s going to die of a heart attack at this point.

Yuri remains quiet.

The guy’s smile seems more forced now. He opens one of the drawers and pulls out a recorder. At Yuri’s sour look, he explains while fiddling with the buttons. “This is for the sessions - I like to record everything. I feel like it’s more efficient when it comes to summarizing the conversations later on. Plus the voice never lies. As you know, everything you say here will remain between us alone and won’t leave this room. Doctor-patient confidentiality.” He winks. Yuri’s face doesn’t change. 

Yuri wants to yell at him, tell him to stop being a lazy piece of shit and just write down the weird thoughts and peculiar replies that he finds interesting and worth psychoanalyzing on a piece of goddamn paper but he tries to remain impassive. Getting emotional won’t help his case. If anything, he fears it.

“Let’s go back to introductions, shall we?” the man offers and clears his throat. The device starts recording. Yuri can’t back out now. “My name is Yuuri Katsuki and I’m here to hear you out, help you find a way to solve your problems. No need for formalities, you may refer to me as Yuuri.” He feigns a laugh. Yuri will not grant him the satisfaction of a normal name. “When we’re here, don’t think of me as a psychologist – think of me as your friend.”

Not a chance. Yuri’s aware that they both know the fact.

At the lack of Yuri’s reply, the other Yuuri tries again. He pushes the recorder around. A golden ring gleams on his ring finger. The bastard’s married. “Please, introduce yourself. No need to feel uncomfortable.” Yuri isn’t uncomfortable, he’s downright angry that he’s stuck here wasting time with this ditz but at the same time he has nowhere else to go. No one to turn to.

He nearly rips at his jeans, knuckles white. “Yuri,” he barks, staring at his thighs. “Yuri Plisetsky.”

Katsuki starts going on about their shared names like it’s the most unexpected thing out there – where Yuri’s from, this name is the norm so he doesn’t get what’s so spectacular about it; during his life he’s met plenty of Yuras, Yurochkas and whatnot.

He tunes the guy out, his chatter an annoying background noise.

Yuuri does a complete 180 when he sees that his patient is obviously not listening. A kid with a tough personality, that’s something that Yuri’s always been described as. No matter how much he tries to act normal, his true self surfaces from the deepest, darkest depths of his fierce personality. He’s positively burning at all times.

“Tell me about yourself, Yuri,” Katsuki offers, intertwining his fingers. “Tell me what’s brought you here.”

Good, straight to the point. No more of this ‘talk about your day’ bullshit. He was about to vomit.

For the first time, Yuri finds himself afraid. Speechless.

He doesn’t know how to say it, make it sound believable – truly this guy will think that he’s a nutcase and then Yuri will end up at a mental house under strict 24/7 supervision. However, he doesn’t want to doubt his late grandfather’s words, his connections. He promised Yuri that this guy could help, would take care of him and his sanity.

‘My name’s Yuri and I have super powers. Also, I’m kind of losing myself due to the aforementioned very much supernatural powers’? Yeah, sounds legit. If he were Katsuki, he’d call the cops.

Katsuki’s eyes are drilling holes in him, waiting for a reply, patient. Yuri hates patient people, knows that he can’t pull their strings or bullshit his way out of certain situations.

“This. This – what I’m about to tell you will stay here right? You can’t call the cops or anything like that?”

Katsuki raises a fine eyebrow. “Now why would I do that? Unless you’re plotting something illegal then I’d have to– “

“No.” Yuri swallows, nervous sweat breaking out on the back his neck. He wishes he had short hair. “It’s nothing like that, I… I don’t know how to say this. There’s no good way to say this that would sound fucking sane.”

“Language.”

Yuri ignores him, pushing away strands of blond hair. “And you will not believe me in the slightest. I don’t even know why I came here. This was a shit idea.”

“Why did you come here?”

“What.”

Katsuki leans back in his chair. His eyes never leave Yuri’s. They seem too focused, too serious for someone like him. “You’re here for a reason. Now for the reason, no matter how ridiculous you claim it to be, I want to know something else - who exactly drove you to seek out my help? Did you decide to see me yourself or were you influenced by a friend, a parental figure?”

Yuuri’s playing mind games but Yuri can’t find it in himself to care, shoulders slumping. “My grandfather. He left me your phone number right before he passed away. I have no one else to turn to. Nowhere else to go.”

“You lived with your grandfather, is that correct?”

“Yes, but what the fuck does it have to do with anything?!” Yuri ignites, finally getting angry. Katsuki seems a little put off.

“Your grandfather wanted what’s the best of you, Yuri. He sent you here with only the best intentions in mind, knowing perfectly well that you might not like it. Yet here you are, the one who made the final choice to get an appointment. If you didn’t want this load off your shoulders, I’m certain you wouldn’t be here. I’m here for you, Yuri. You can tell me anything, no matter how crazy it may sound.”

Yuri sits back down – he hasn’t noticed when he got up. He eyes the psychologist suspiciously. “Did you know him? My grandfather. Nikolai Plisetsky.”

“I’m afraid I can’t talk about the others with you. Confidentiality and all.”

Somehow Yuri takes it as a yes. Perhaps Katsuki here knows who he is. Maybe he’s even heard of his condition before. Somehow that knowledge spurs him on. “Alright. Gramps knew what he was doing. He wanted the best for me.” Yuuri only mutely nods. “I have no reason to doubt him. But remember - this stays between us.”

“Of course.”

Yuri sweats. No one knows. Not anymore. His grandfather did though, all along. Even before Yuri himself was aware of his talents, or rather this curse that won’t let him have any peace of mind. “I. I have a secret I can’t tell anyone about. If I told anyone, they’d think I’m joking or say that I’m crazy. It’s driving me mad and I’m losing my goddamn mind because of it. It feels like it’s never going to be okay and no one has the same issue as me. I’ve looked everywhere for something like this, but I’m the only one. There’s no one out there to whom I can relate to and I feel like – I feel like I’m not me.”

“What makes you feel that way?”

Yuri takes a deep breath. Anxiety begins kicking in. Bad. “I still don’t know if it’s fucking real or if this is just some bad movie and I’m losing my mind, living in some world that my sick imagination conjures. I’ve had my brain scanned too many times to count. They asked me if I’m seeing things but I don’t think I’m just seeing them. In fact I’m not seeing shit, I’m not a goddamn nutcase. It’s more than that, something else entirely. They said that there’s nothing abnormal yet here I am, disappearing. Constantly.”

“Disappearing?” Yuuri leans in, eyebrows knit in a confused frown. “How so? Like you’re separated from-”

“Don’t even start with that dissociation bullshit, I’ve heard this before. Yeah, it fucking feels like it, like one moment I’m there and the next I’m gone, but hey, that must have more to do with the fact that ever since I was a kid, I’ve been teleporting in my sleep, but then I hit fifteen and I started hopping around the world like a rabbit on fucking crack without any control over where I go, where I land and with no knowledge as to what triggers it, and let me tell you - it sucks. It fucking sucks when I– when I wake up in Moscow and next thing I know, I’m all the way in Australia, lying on the beach. Sounds like a fucking dream right? Who wouldn’t want that?” Yuri laughs, involuntary tears threatening to spill from under his eyelids. He’s ripping out his hair – the pain keeps him grounded to the present. He feels the chill in his spine and he knows it’ll happen if he isn’t careful, if he gets too upset. He’ll blip away from this stuffy office and scar Yuuri Katsuki for life.

Admittedly, he’s a lot to get used to. Especially with this supernatural background.

Katsuki is concerned but Yuri can still see the skepticism is his façade. “Yuri, please calm down. Deep breaths.”

“Fuck your deep breaths,” Yuri squeezes out through grit teeth. The muscles in his jaw shake. His head snaps up. “You don’t believe me, do you!? You think that I’m making this up or that I’m sick in the head and all of this is some delusional man’s rant.”

He has the guts to get annoyed. “I didn’t say that.”

“I said it. I fucking told you my grand secret and you don’t even believe me. I knew you wouldn’t, no one besides grandpa would. I should’ve never come here.”

“Yuri.”

“If I disappear right now, it’s gonna be your fault,” Yuri wheezes, lungs tight with panic. He doesn’t want to leave. No matter how much he numbs himself, this shit still scares him. He never knows where he’ll appear, how long he’ll stay in the unfamiliar territory. He remembers getting stuck in the woods for two days once. He still doesn’t know which country that was.

“Do you feel anything before you disappear, some indication that it’s about to happen?” Yuuri leaves his chair and crouches next to the shaking patient. He’s crying but his hands shake too badly to wipe away the traitorous tears.

Yuri furiously shakes his head. “I don’t know? Sometimes. I get these annoying chills and then the colors start blurring. It’s like seeing in double vision. And I feel this pull. I always fall forward and before I can hit the ground, I always end up falling on unfamiliar land.”

“Do you feel any of these?”

Yuri can’t speak through the chattering of his teeth. He settles for a stiff nod.

“Have you tried willing these symptoms away? You know like when you have a headache and tell yourself that you don’t and the pain lessens and sometimes even disappears?”

“Do I look like some naïve kid to you, Katsuki?” Yuri hisses. “Of course I fucking have, I tried every trick in the book and nothing works.”

Yuuri places a firm hand on his thigh. “Does talking to me help?”

Strangely enough, the other’s annoying presence serves its purpose in chaining him down to reality, the present time, this location – St. Petersburg. Does reality even exist at this point? Yuri isn’t sure, hasn’t been sure of it for nearly two years now.

Their eyes connect and Yuri doesn’t need to answer – the other Yuuri just knows.

Perhaps it’s due to the fact that Yuri has lost all of his friends after that incident, he’s cut off everyone from his life, too scared to get attached and for his secret to get revealed. Yuri always has to deal with this teleportation business alone - even tried to hide this burden from his grandfather - so having a new presence calms him down significantly. He has someone to share this with – a complete stranger for whom he doesn’t care, thus he isn’t afraid to blip away from him specifically.

Yuuri keeps talking. Yuri listens. “Have you ever wondered what triggers it? Kept a journal, documented anything? Noticed any peculiar patterns?”

He sounds so honest that it makes Yuri shiver in disgust – he feels naked under Yuuri’s scrutinizing gaze. It’s almost as if the other really does believe him. He’s a good actor, he’ll give Katsuki that.

“Never,” Yuri replies, swallowing around the ball of nerves in his throat. It isn’t subsiding. “I just feel this. This fear and anxiety right as I go. And then I fucking panic some more if I end up in some cornfields or abandoned buildings or whatever the hell. Anywhere that has no indication as to what country it is. Lately, it’s mostly been cities, thank fucking God.”

“Could it be that you get triggered the moment you get emotional? Perhaps it works like a self-defense mechanism. You can’t face something, therefore you run away? Disappear anywhere that you can think of just to avoid staying at that place any longer.”

“Trust me, I’d never fucking imagine myself in the woods at night but there I fucking was.” Yuri bites his lower lip and then it finally dawns on him, this guy may have the right idea. He’s never thought about this as running away from fears and discomfort. It took him just one look at Yuri’s breakdown to pinpoint the possible – and most likely – cause. “I never thought of it as some weakling case?”

Yuuri exhales, looking to the side. He looks lost deep in thought. “Alright, let’s trace back your steps then. You’ve mentioned something about it being different when you were little. How was it back then?”

Yuri hates remembering his childhood because he used to think of this curse as a blessing. He’d go to sleep, eager and giddy, ready to see more of the world. He’d close his eyes and then he’d end up in the streets of Paris, running around and gasping at the amazing sights.

No one could see him. No one could hear him. He’d feel no cold, no hunger, no nothing. It’d feel like a supremely realistic dream. Nothing to worry over, right?

Some instances struck him as peculiar as he sometimes would notice kids looking straight at him, as Yuri, dressed in tiger PJs, would run around and play in the cobblestoned streets, wide fields, sandy beaches, mysterious and impassable woods. He remembers talking with some kid he’s met in Poland or some shit. The language barriers didn’t exist back then so he used to think that this was a dream after all. Yuri wonders if that kid got traumatized due to his phantom presence, but kid imagination is adorable. Imagining friends is normal.

The point is that Yuri’s mind would take him anywhere he wished – from Greece to Egypt to Italy – and he’d always wake up in his bed, ready to eat breakfast and tell grandpa about his scarily-accurate journeys.

He never knew that while he was ‘sleepwalking’ in other countries, his bed would be empty, physical presence gone. He never knew that his grandfather had to deal with his disappearances, had seen him blip away right before his eyes time and time again. Nikolai never said anything though – as long as Yurochka returned every morning, unharmed, happy.

Yuri was blissfully unaware of his talents.

Perhaps there are people like him out there who are unaware of these talents as well. Waiting for help, for someone to come around and relate to. Someone to tell them that they’re real and that they exist in one place rather than six at once.

Yuuri nods. He finally lets go of Yuri’s shaking hands – when had he taken hold of them – and slowly backs away to the seat across the desk. He offers his hand to his patient to hold onto in order to make him feel more comfortable. Yuri refuses the offer, tearing away at his jeans. It’s the third hole. His lip bleeds inside his mouth. “So your grandfather wanted you to live in the dark.”

“Yeah. I mean, some warning would’ve been nice but I’m not complaining. He protected me till the end. I can’t imagine blowing my fucking lid off like this since day one. It would’ve been a nightmare. I probably would’ve jumped from a bridge or hung myself. This is fucking horrifying and no one should have these… powers.”

“What about the change? What happened exactly?”

Yuri filters out half of Yuuri’s curious questions as his eyes cloud for a moment. The shaking returns, twice as strong. Thinking about it triggers him, triggers _it_.

The image stands out clear as though it’s happened yesterday. He knows the exact date, tries not to look at calendars every year as it approaches – a sad reminder that all of that has actually happened and continues happening to this day. 2011 May 30th, might as well call it the day Yuri Plisetsky’s sanity finally got buried for good.

It was their yearly end of the school year party. It was getting dark, the streetlamps shone an annoying white and the school was flowing with balloons and banners, the backyard filled with senior’s cars, people swarming the stairs and the fields. Yuri went to a good school, a private one no less. He remembers how much he hated most of the people learning there, pompous beyond belief and obsessed with themselves. Typical rich kids.

He did have some people he was close to, mainly his classmates. They weren’t that horrible and all of them came from middle-class families much like Yuri did. The class was strong in its unity, popular with teachers due to its charisma. They helped out with the preparations, the silly décor and picking out the music that blasted so loud you could hear it in the main street.

That’s where Yuri was, talking with one of the older kids. The guy was strangely fond of him no matter how many times Yuri had blown up in his face or nearly started a fight. He kept sticking around and he wasn’t completely terrible so Yuri found himself tolerating the guy. Maybe he had even considered him a friend. They’d hang out and stuff and they were both stuck with the preparations.

People thought they were an item.

Yuri would laugh at these accusations.

But here they were - Yuri dressed in his best dark blue suit, hair pulled back into a short ponytail and braided at the sides while the guy, awkward and red-faced, stood before him, looking ready to die, explode.

They were talking about something but all of that pleasant chatter was abruptly ended when the guy decided to flap his mouth and _confess_ to him.

Yuri felt as though he’d been struck by lightning, stiff and unmoving, eyes bulging out. His brain process had been crashing over and over throughout the entire ordeal. How the hell was he supposed to react? The idea of being with the other in that way made Yuri sick to his stomach due to nerves. Was he supposed to say yes? He didn’t even like the guy that much and here he was thinking that they could be more.

“I like you, Yura.” Yuri cringed at the nickname that the guy had stapled on him the moment they started getting close. A mistake. “This is the last night before summer vacation so I thought I’d get it off my chest and tell you now. I want–“

Yuri never got to hear what the other had wanted with him. He felt a sickening sensation in his stomach, twisting it up in knots of something that wasn’t anxiety. His ears started ringing, sweat broke out easily enough and that guy suddenly had six eyes instead of two. He was about to faint, he knew it.

Nervous, Yuri had pressed his palms against his ears, not caring much for the heartbroken expression on the other’s face. “Can you shut up for a sec, I’m–” Yuri bit his lip in fear of throwing up. His eyelids kept twitching furiously as though someone had pinched a nerve in the wrong way.

A moment later that dingus had realized that something was wrong and it had nothing to do with his shit-timed supposed love confession, approaching Yuri carefully, hand reaching out. “Yura, are you alright? You’re shaking real bad, did I seriously get you off guard like this? I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

Yuri had bailed before the other had the chance to reach out, nearly tripping in his haste to leave. He couldn’t care less about the guy he was leaving behind, mouth gaping, hand still hovering as if to pull the blond back.

Yuri ran and ran until he was at least an entire neighborhood away. As he leaned against a lamppost, catching his breath and waiting for the light to turn green, he felt himself falling forward – a weird sensation as though everything around him was in slow motion. Creeped out, he had closed his eyes only to open them a moment later when a horrible sound had reached his ears.

The screech of tires.

He was blinded by the headlight of a motorcycle and he had mentally crossed himself over, mind still reeling and chest heaving at the strange sensation, but the driver seemed to be really skilled. In no time, he had stopped the black metal beast, leaving black marks on the pavement and some smoke.

Legs feeling like two noodles, Yuri found himself collapsing backwards, nearly crying at the near encounter with death. Where the hell the biker had come from? Yuri was certain that there were only cars driving by and he certainly hadn’t heard or seen a motorcycle.

Come to think of it – where the hell was he?

Panicked, Yuri looked around, trying to find a single familiar thing about the street, only to make no connections inside his mind. He was seemingly lost in the middle of some unfamiliar suburban neighborhood, dimly lit and quiet. Peaceful. There was some sort of park on one side and simple homes lined the other side of the small street. Distant sounds of traffic could be heard.

Yuri felt himself panicking, chill settling deep in his bones, shaking him to the very core. His vision blurred in the motorcycle’s headlight as he heaved, his thoughts a jumbled mess – _what the fuck’s going on, what’s happening, where am I, am I going crazy?_

In a second, the biker was all up in his face, peeling away the sleek, black helmet. Despite the struggle, his hair remained gelled back in its rightful place.

The biker was cursing under his breath. Naturally. “Where the hell did you come from, I could’ve sworn the road was clear. I almost ran you over!” he took in Yuri’s wild expression, his eyes never staying too long on one object. The biker bit his lower lip, concern creasing the skin between his thick eyebrows. “Kid, are you uninjured? Did you fall too hard?”

‘Russian’, Yuri had thought, some panic disappearing, ‘he’s speaking in Russian.’ Something real, familiar. Something he couldn’t be imagining no matter how crazy the situation was. The guy had placed a hand on his bicep, tender, as if to bring Yuri back down to earth, probably thinking that he was concussed. Yuri would’ve thought the same in the other’s case. Would’ve thought that he had almost ran over a complete psychopath.

Yuri’s aquamarine eyes searched the brown ones for some sort of indication that this wasn’t real, just a bad dream of a school party gone wrong, but he was still there, feeling the chill of the night wind and his palms were stinging where they’d been skinned after the fall.

They’d locked eyes and Yuri suddenly jumped up, startling the other into nearly falling over and then he ran. He didn’t listen to the guy shouting after him to hold up, to stop, to let him take Yuri to a hospital.

Yuri didn’t know where he was going, all streets unfamiliar but he was getting close to the city’s main streets, he could tell by the noise.

When he had burst out into a huge street, overflowing with people, and looked around – he recognized none of it. Wherever Yuri was it certainly wasn’t Moscow. It wasn’t Russia.

Sure, people talked in Russian, but something was off. Something about the language was a little different and Yuri had wandered, hyperventilating and lost, till he found a bank and looked at the flag hung above the entrance, billowing in the air.

Kazakhstan. He was in fucking Kazakhstan. With no money on him and his phone running on 3% battery in the pocket of his blazer.

The moment he had taken it out to make a call, send an email, just notify his grandpa somehow of this crazy situation – hey gramps, I opened my eyes and I fell down in Kazakhstan, could you maybe help me out – it died.

Yuri walked and walked for hours, never leaving the main street, nearly screaming in frustration and too scared to go to the police – they’d undeniably take him to the nearest mental institution or lock him up for playing lame pranks. He felt as though he was having one of those childhood dreams of his but whenever he ran into some person, they’d yell at him to watch where he was going and the chill filtering through his clothes was real.

In the end, he sat down on the sidewalk in front of some convenience store and put his head into his hands, trying to think rationally. It was a hard task to complete, seeing as he was scared out of his mind and cold beyond belief but he had refused to give up. He was certain he’d end up in Russia before morning came. This was just like in his dreams, right? He’d wake up in his bed and it would be alright.

This was so much different than what he was used to.

And then somehow as he sighed and nearly started crying, he opened his eyes and he was standing in the middle of the street where he had received that dumb confession that had started it all. The school was deadly quiet, though the light still shone brightly. There we no students on the street, only scattered confetti and flyers made some noise as wind blew by.

Shaken, Yuri approached the party-goers hanging out further away, asking for their phones. They were drunk enough to lend them a phone without any questions.

Yuri’s grandpa had been furious – do you have any idea how late it is, Yurochka? – but the moment he heard Yuri’s voice he had relented. Something was wrong.

Yuri teared up the moment he heard the familiar hum of the engine disturbing the night. Grandfather said nothing, only hugged Yuri’s shaking form and guided him to the car, turning up the radio in order to distract his grandson as Yuri stared at the blurry lights, fear shaking his frame.

He was scared. He was damn terrified of blipping back to that street.

Yuri tells Yuuri all of this with a dead voice. The other’s eyes shine in sympathy. “I couldn’t sleep for three days. I was afraid of disappearing somewhere even further. Kazakhstan wasn’t so bad, I thought to myself. What if next time I’d end up at, I don’t know, Antarctica?”

“And your grandfather? How’d he uncover the truth?”

“It took him a few months to notice. I was beginning to cut everything and everyone off; friends, even him. I declared that I’d stop going to ice skating practice. I quit right before my senior debut,” Yuri explains. It was terrible. He had to give up the one thing he’s always loved the most. “I was scared to disappear during a competition right in front of the cameras. I didn’t want anyone else to know. The people at school thought that I changed because of that confession. The upperclassmen hated me, they thought that I was cruel for leaving Sasha like that. I’ve heard the most ridiculous of rumors about that confession but I never bothered to correct anyone, I didn’t really give a shit about it either. A month later, I started losing it. I could no longer skate, couldn’t let out my frustrations. I stopped going to school – everything and everyone pissed me off. And then I blipped again, ended up somewhere in China I think. Stayed there for three hours, spent the entire time screaming in some back alley and kicking over trashcans. When I got back, he saw me reappear. I told him the truth. He said that he knew all along.”

Yuuri loosens his blue tie. His soft eyes are sad. Pitying. “What did your grandpa do afterwards?”

Yuri shrugs. That annoying hitch behind his eyelids reemerges. “Nothing. What could he do? He was just as clueless as me. We even decided to get our brains checked just in case. Nothing came up. I spent so many hours getting psychoanalyzed, so many hours lying just to get those freaks off my back. I think it’s my fault that grandpa ruined his health. I’m the reason he died.” Yuri’s voice picks up in volume. “If it weren’t for me, a freak of nature, he’d still be alive, I’m sure. He’s always had a weak heart and I made it worse with my existence.”

Yuuri reaches for his hands again. “Yuri, you didn’t– “

“How’d you fucking know what I did and didn’t, huh!? You weren’t there, you know nothing.” Yuri tears the hands away, choking back the urge to sob. “You’re just like that guy, thinks he knows me, thinks he can get into my head with the weird shit he says,” Yuri straight up yells, ribcage squeezing up.

Yuuri blinks in surprise. “That guy? Yuri, who’re you talking about?”

“That’s none of your– “

Yuuri Katsuki gapes at the empty chair across the desk. It feels like some bizarre dream, the sudden silence of his office, the tick-tock of the cat-shaped clock, the stifling scent of coffee. The recorder placed on the table keeps recording this not-quite silence and Yuuri sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s never seen anything quite like this. He’s never seen anyone with a case this serious.

He thinks of Viktor, their first meeting, and remembers the desperation in the other’s voice. He’s not normal, he said, over and over again as if he truly believed it.

He knows that Yuri will be back. He wants to help the boy get better. There has to be a way. There’s so much he doesn’t know, so many things the other didn’t manage to disclose.

It’s weird to record his thoughts on the patient, this Yuri Plistetsky, and end his musings with a silent “The patient has disappeared.”

-

Yuri Plisetsky finds himself lost in the busy streets of Seoul for the third time this month. He continues walking, fuming under the surface.


End file.
